


The Long Goodbye

by nightoye



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightoye/pseuds/nightoye
Summary: A time travelling story between Alvis and Sigurd.
Relationships: Arvis/Siglud | Sigurd
Kudos: 3





	The Long Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [The Long Goodbye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18956125) by [nightoye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightoye/pseuds/nightoye). 



I.

After recapturing the city of Chalphy, Seliph did not feel happy. Quite the contrary, he felt tired.  
It was indeed a happy moment to ride through the streets and receive the cheers of the people, but he was not able to indulge in it for long. The war continued, Grannvale would mobilise his army to besiege the prince, the war in Isaach and Leonster was still raging, and the original seven duchies were united in a final struggle. Lewyn reminded him, telling him not to slacken and not to retreat.  
He had a dream on the beach and saw his parents.  
When he woke up he was still holding the Holy Sword, which was incredibly heavy in his hands.

The castle of Chalphy was a very strange place. Seliph found the room where his father had lived back then and spent the night there. As he was about to fall asleep, he felt a pair of eyes peering curiously above him.  
Subconsciously, he opened his eyes and looked at the person who appeared in the room.  
"Why are you here?" The other person asked, with his eyes that held curiosity but did not seem hostile. Seliph immediately recognised the person in front of him.  
He had already met Sigurd once on the beach, and somehow Seliph was able to recognise his father whom he had not seen for a long time. Sigurd had inherited the colour of his hair and eyes, but had a steely face that he did not have. The man's name had given him strength time and time again.  
However, Seliph could say nothing in the face of Sigurd, who wore a curious expression at that moment.  
He looked so young at the moment ... not much older than himself. Faced with that clean, innocent face, it was difficult for Seliph to say the word "father".  
He replied in a different way, "I think it was you who appeared here out of nowhere."  
"How can that be? This is my room." Sigurd looked at him suspiciously. "Strange, it shouldn't be possible for someone from outside to come in here, should it? So, am I dreaming?"  
Maybe I'm dreaming too. Seliph reached out his hand to touch the man in front of him, and Sigurd stepped back, not letting him touch it.  
"Don't." He said uneasily. "You'll wake up if you do that."  
"Are you for real? Are you really ... Sigurd?" Seliph asked. Maybe the person dreaming was himself.  
"Of course I'm real." Sigurd said. "How strange that I should answer such questions in my own room."

What was I supposed to do?  
Seliph remembered that he had once asked Ares what he would do if he met his real father.  
The Black Knight, a little older than him, wiped his sword in silence, and after a while replied that he had long since outgrown such fantasies. Such things, in the midst of a brutal war, were merely a futile way to add to the meaningless suffering. Seliph wanted to say more, but the truth was that they both knew what it was like to face a bloody battlefield, there was no point in saying more ... After every battle, he wished that someone would tell him that it was over, you wouldn't have to face it all again, you could go home.  
And this was his home.  
Sigurd waited for him to say something, and all he waited for was a long silence.  
"It's what's happened, isn't it." He hesitated. "I have a strange feeling I shouldn't be here. Besides, you look so familiar ..."  
"Do you know what happened before?" Seliph asked suddenly.  
"Before?"  
"I mean ... how to put it, your future. And also my past ..."  
It took a moment for Sigurd to respond to what he meant.  
"Oh! So that means this is the future of Chalphy?" He looked around the room. "Why do I get the impression that nothing has changed here? No, I don't know, what's going to happen in the future?"  
Seliph fell into silence again.  
"Never mind ... It's a rare visit, I should go out for a walk." Sigurd muttered to himself, walking towards the closed door, and then Seliph watched as he reached out and pulled the non-existent handle open, and went through the room.  
This ... I must have, overexerted myself ... into some sort of hallucination ... the teenager struggled to convince himself of this.  
Three seconds later, he jumped to his feet and hurried over to pull open the door to the room.  
Then he saw Sigurd still standing in the corridor, bewildered. The outside of the castle had changed considerably, the portraits had been taken down, the decorations had been removed, the carpets on the floor were falling with burn marks and the scars on the walls showed the battles that had taken place here. Sigurd gazed dumbfounded at everything ... until Seliph arrived at his side.  
"Is this what you were talking about?" He asked. But without waiting for Seliph to answer, he hurried forward and ran.

It hadn't been long after Sigurd had just come of age that his father had told him a secret.  
Perhaps because of some ability of the divine dragon, he could travel to his future in his dreams. Of course, many people have this power of precognition, they just have to use the right method. If they forget this method, they also lose the power to travel.  
Only this is not actually a power, but a curse ... Back then, the dragon who granted them the power said so. It would only be best if this curse could be forgotten.  
Sigurd didn't believe in any curse, he just suddenly wanted to look into the future.  
The scarred castle before him was completely different from what he remembered before he fell asleep, every corner he loved so much had changed, one by one he pulled open the doors of the rooms and walked through them ... almost none of them remained the same except for his room ...  
Seliph followed him at some point.  
"When did this place start looking like this?" Sigurd asked.  
"I don't know." Seliph said. "I just took back this place ... from Emperor Alvis."  
"Alvis?" Sigurd heard the name and he was struck dumb. "He became emperor?"  
"Well, will you hear me out?"  
As they walked through the castle, Sigurd listened to the whole story.  
Seliph realised then that he didn't know many of the exact facts; he knew how his parents had met, how the war had gone, and how it had ended ... but he didn't know any of the details. He couldn't even remember what his mother looked like. Nor did he feel that his account of that tragic future was nearly as powerful as the sight before him.  
As they made their way down, Seliph suddenly realised where they would be going.  
"Wait, don't go to ...," he said.  
Sigurd had already pulled open the 'door' to the underground.

Alvis's body was resting there.  
As far as he was concerned, it was a good place to go.  
The Emperor's dead face was peaceful, his ruddy hair streaked, and more than ten hours had passed.  
Sigurd knelt beside the body, staring at the face in awe, as if trying to read some message.  
Seliph's account instantly became a horrific reality. He wondered why this was - Alvis' chest bore the scars caused by the holy sword. The blood on that hollow had now dried.  
He tried to touch the dead man's torso, and the room was dark and cold. It was a nightmare.  
"Can you change?" At some point, Seliph stood there and asked him again.  
He looked back, the teenager looked so sad. He was nothing like himself ... must have been like his mother. Sigurd hadn't met her yet.  
"I don't know." He murmured. "Give me some time ...."  
Seliph found the words didn't mean as much as he thought they did - he did stand there for a moment, but in the twinkling of an eye, Sigurd was gone. He blinked in surprise, thinking that some miracle had happened ...  
Something suddenly sounded behind him and he looked back to see ...  
the living Alvis standing there.

"Stop looking at me like that, it's not a ghost story." The emperor said coldly. "But, I just remembered, it just happened for you, I guess."  
Seliph tried very hard to convince himself to look away and glanced at the place where the body had originally been parked ... wasn't there.  
"What the hell is this ..."  
"You'll find out in a few days." Alvis said. "Don't worry, I won't do anything about it. It would be easier for the others to have the Emperor dead."  
"I thought I'd killed you." The teenager squeezed out the words through clenched teeth. It was strange to say that just before today he had hated Alvis like that, but at this moment he had absolutely no strength left to hate.  
"You did kill." Alvis asked in a soft voice. "How does it feel? Did that make you happy?"  
Seliph almost laughed, "So ... you did that on purpose?"  
He seemed to understand why Alvis had barely resisted, why he had given an almost relieved look before he died. It didn't seem like a coincidence that the holy sword had ended up in his hands ...  
"If you don't want to kill me again, I'm going to leave." Alvis said.  
"Where are you going?"  
"Upstairs, to your room." Alvis said as he took a few steps forward and turned back. "Actually, you can come along if you want."  
Seliph thought grimly, this is good, at least, they both don't have to fight.

Sigurd waited inside the room. Seliph suddenly seemed to understand something upon seeing him, and of course, the confusion deepened in equal measure. Sigurd saw him and smiled apologetically at him.  
"I seem to have screwed up a bit." He said. "I was hoping to go ask Alvis what happened."  
"And?" Seliph said cautiously.  
"And then just saved him in the process."  
"... Do you know what he did?" Seliph couldn't resist asking. "He killed you, took away mother, sacrificed that many people ..."  
"I know. I'm sorry."  
"Forget it ..." Seliph was powerless. He felt the reasons that had been convincing him suddenly dissipate. Perhaps it was because the image of his father was simply too subversive, and he suddenly deeply doubted those beliefs that Lewyn and Oifey had instilled in him.  
"Still, even if we kill him, things won't change." Sigurd went on. "Besides, you don't really like killing that much. If it's all my fault that you have to live with hatred on your back, then I'll at least fix it for you."  
"Wouldn't you be able to make the Bahara thing go away too if you could change the past?"  
"It's not that simple ... you'll disappear because of that." Alvis said as he closed the door for them both. "I've envisioned over and over again ... that as soon as your parents get married, what happens afterwards is almost inevitable, unless you can accept that the two of them never got together. Seliph, do you want to disappear? Would you rather never have lived yourself and save the world?"  
"Enough, don't let him make that choice." Sigurd interrupted him with anger. "The decision is not in his hands either, so why are you torturing the boy like this?"  
"And what are you going to do about it?" Alvis asked rhetorically. "I'd like to know, too. Seriously, you've only known him for how long and you're already thinking of him like this?"  
There was a dead silence. Seliph looked at them both in turn, her mind going blank. They were both so right, sacrificing themselves to save the world really sounded too easy. Everything depended on a single thought of Sigurd. But what about him ... the decision was not his to make ... what he would do if he could decide ...  
Sigurd reached out and tried to touch him, however, the palm passed through his body ... causing no sensation.  
"I really shouldn't have come ... I'll try ... to," he said gently. "I'll try to accept my results later ... Seliph, have a good life afterwards ..."  
Seliph' heart sank and tears instantly wet his face.  
At the same time as he touched him, Sigurd disappeared.  
He didn't notice that Alvis' face was equally pale.

II.

Half a year later.  
Alvis sat at the window writing, he was a little distracted and occasionally looked out of the window. It was getting a little late and he wanted to finish ... quickly and then go back to his room to rest. There was an abrupt coughing sound from behind him and Alvis almost jumped in fright. He jerked his head back to see Sigurd standing in the room, inclining his head as if he found his reaction particularly amusing.  
Alvis couldn't speak.  
"What's the matter, so surprised all of a sudden." The guy across the room was unaware of it, his childish eyes shining. "Haven't you already met me?"  
"I thought you'd never come back."  
Alvis was telling the truth; he felt that such things as knowing the future could be done once but not again. Sigurd, if he had any sense left, knew he shouldn't go back to the future...and then he remembered that Sigurd had never been a sensible man.  
"But ... I'm still worried. Even if I already knew how things would end ... what would happen after that? I thought about it over and over again when I got back yesterday, and even if you and Seliph had reconciled, I still couldn't let go. So I just decided to look further into the future."  
"Was it just yesterday for you?" Alvis said.  
Curious, Sigurd asked him about what had happened before, and learned that for the past six months, Cellis had managed to bring down the forces of the Dark Dragon, and he had been busy with the fledgling nation. Instead of reverting to his role as Emperor, Alvis was living as an ordinary man.  
Sigurd looked curiously at the manuscript he was writing: "What is this?"  
"Some advice for your son on how to rule the country. He is still too young." Alvis said.  
"Oh, you're not going to teach him bad things, are you?"  
"By the standards of an emperor, he's not bad enough."  
Sigurd decided to forget the subject.  
"On the rare occasion I come over, I don't want to stay in my room and talk anymore, how about we go for a walk?" He suggested. It looked like a good season outside the window at the moment, and there was a different view of the year in Chalphy. He remembered how often he stayed at the beach for a whole day. There were other people ...  
However, in the face of this invitation, Alvis just smiled up and shook his head.  
"Sorry, I can't go out right now."  
He met Sigurd's uncomprehending look with a slight hesitation before finally pointing to his feet.  
Sigurd looked down - and then was stunned - as Alvis's feet were bound in heavy shackles and chained to the chair by chains. He moved his eyes slowly and gazed anew at the slim face ... Alvis was calm, without any expression of self-hurt or self-pity. Sigurd's breath seemed to freeze ...  
"How can that be, Seliph would not do such a thing to you ..."  
But he immediately remembered that he had known his son for less than a day. Though that one side of him made him think that something about Seliph still resembled his own ...  
"It's not him. But there are others around him and he doesn't just trust his own opinion." Alvis explained to him calmly instead. "In any case, my presence is certainly a hindrance to this country."  
"But that's ... not right either."  
Sigurd couldn't say what was specifically wrong - but things were definitely wrong.

Yesterday, in the middle of an eerie night, he had seen Alvis's body. The wounds on it were so gruesome that the dead man must have suffered much torture in his life. He went back more than ten hours to see Alvis standing at the head of the city, but opposite him was a stern army and a crowd full of hatred. Sigurd heard every one of them speaking, all accusing Alvis of his sins.  
With a scornful look and without defending himself, Alvis mockingly demanded that these men kill himself. Sigurd recognised in the hands of those men the sacred sword Barumonk, the holy bow Ichbal, and the demon sword Mistadin ... It was a new holy war, they said so ... and in ten hours or so Alvis would lie alone with all these wounds inflicted. Never again would another ordinary man suffer such injuries and die.  
The last person to come out was Seliph, but, as a quick glance showed, he was almost the only one who didn't want to fight. In his hand was the holy sword that had reached his hands at some point.  
Sigurd did nothing, he approached the battlefield and walked over to Alvis ...  
Then everything stood still ...

"I don't like this." He said to Alvis. "You looked like you were seeking death at that moment."  
"You don't understand anything at all. Death was all I wanted then and you ... even took that away from me." Alvis responded bitterly. "Not a day has gone by in the last six months that I haven't hated you."  
"But there is hope in living, and even if you feel guilty, isn't life the only way to redeem yourself?!"  
"Sigurd, you are as naive as I remember. Want to atone for your sins and others will let you do so, do you think the world is so good?"  
Speaking of this, Alvis pointed to the shackles on his feet, "I was locked up in this city for six months. Your son didn't want to do this at first, but everyone else thought I was dangerous. It seems the power of Vala's Flame still frightens them ... Eventually I was stripped of almost everything and imprisoned here. Even then, it was the result of Seliph' efforts to convince the crowd that many simply could not accept that he would not avenge his father. Besides, the people of this world have long been accustomed to blaming the Emperor for all the suffering they have endured."  
Sigurd choked for a moment.  
"Later, it was I who convinced them. I said that since I didn't die in battle, I demanded to be judged by the law - the law, which was the only thing I had left as a possession for the Empire. I was to die under something I had created, and there was nothing more wonderful than that. If people learn to use the law to sanction an emperor, the world will have taken a giant step forward." Speaking of this, Alvis pointed to the letter on his desk. "The letter I'm writing to Seliph is about this, and to be honest, it's not really that easy to decide how you're going to die."  
"I, for one, thought ..."  
"Anyway, your son needs to finish this and win people's hearts for him."  
"I ... I don't like that. Don't you have any other choice?"  
Sigurd continued to retreat.  
He might be invincible on the battlefield, but in the face of cold reality, he was no different from a small child. He was the proud son of Chalphy, and life was too easy for someone like him ... He had never considered that many things in the world did not work out how they were to be.  
"If I'd had another choice ... I wouldn't have killed you in the first place." Alvis said.  
He lowered his head, briefly, as if he were laughing and crying. Sigurd touched his shoulder.  
Alvis felt a hug that seemed like a ghost. Sigurd's hand passed through his torso, bringing an eerie shuddering sensation. They were, after all, in different times and spaces.  
"When will be the trial?"  
"I won't say. You're never going to run off and mess up again."  
"You're such a cold, heartless bastard."  
"Yes, one becomes that way naturally when one has been emperor too much."  
Sigurd looked at him wordlessly, his gaze full of pleading. But ... he knew he could not convince Alvis, who had much more life experience than he did. Even at the same age, Alvis had understood the dark and unjust side of the world.  
To win the whole world, you have to become a thousand times colder than it ...  
"If you survive, I will definitely come back for you." He said. "There's not much time left for me, I can't be by your side every night. But I will try ..."  
No! Don't you come any closer! Alvis tried to control himself from yelling at him. Why did this bastard Sigurd still refuse to accept reality? He simply didn't understand how cruel it was to live in alternating hope and despair, he simply didn't understand that ... at least, he'd die before he could understand everything and not suffer much else. At least, he had put his life on the line for an ideal that was foolish enough.  
He didn't understand that Alvis' name would be remembered as the cruel emperor, who would be remembered as the culprit of all darkness. People will forget that it was their own desires and ideals that really made history, and will simply blame everything on the merits or sins of a few. But, such is the way of history, which relentlessly crushes everyone forward.  
Alvis could only pray for a small and insignificant mercy in the face of this immense force.

III.

What kind of power is it to be able to travel through time?  
Sigurd lost two days of sleep, thinking seriously about this question.  
The reality was so warm and inviting, with all his family around him. Even though he had been mentally depressed for the past two days, everyone still cared for him and made him feel better. All of this shown that Alvis was so cold and cruel at the time.  
On the third day he spoke to his father about setting off for the royal capital. Previously Sigurd hadn't really wanted to go to the cadet school in Bahra - after all, it was enough for him to learn the art of swordsmanship alone, and he basically didn't need to learn much about warfare. But this time he said he had changed his mind. On his way out, he hugged his father and sister in turn for a long time, saying that he would be back soon.  
Byron looked surprised, not really knowing why his son had suddenly become so mature.  
All in all, Sigurd settled down a little after his report in the royal capital. He enquired that Alvis was in the royal capital guard at this time, working as the prince's close protection officer. It was not so easy to slip out of his busy schedule of classes to look for Alvis ... He passed a few days and never found the opportunity.

Sigurd walked through the streets sprinkled with moonlight. Instead of being sleepy, he was suddenly in a mood to leap into adventure. Every corner of Bahara intrigued him, the city was guarded by the six great houses of Grannvale and had a long history and legends passed down to him. It was said to have been the capital of the empire back in the days of the Loptous Empire ... There was no curfew or anything like that at night, and he was free to explore the place.  
At some point, he found himself in the marketplace - where many people would travel to and from. But in the darkness of the night, there was no one around here.  
As he looked around, it suddenly seemed to him that the kingdom had become different from the way it had been during the day; the ground beneath his feet was dark and ominous, with the burn marks of a place where people had once burned to death.  
Sigurd shuddered.  
They all said there would be fire or hanging to watch here, but Sigurd had no interest in that sort of thing. He was still afraid to look into the eyes of someone who was going to die. At the moment he always felt like a ghost only.  
A cloud moved away and the moon revealed itself, changing the shadows on the ground. There were some cages on the side of the marketplace, and it was only then that he noticed them.  
As he approached the cages, he realised that someone lying inside, chained, hunched over on all fours, wearing tattered prison clothes. The cage was full of stench and it was clear that no one had bothered to clean the place. This man he did not recognise. Sigurd was slightly relieved, yet an inexplicable sympathy arose.  
"What are you doing here?" The man didn't seem to be asleep, saw him and opened his mouth slightly. The voice was hoarse. "Ah ... you're a young master of some house, aren't you? How about talking to me? I'm going to be hanged soon."  
"What crime have you committed?" Sigurd asked him.  
"I am a priest of Loptous ...," he whispered. "His Highness Julius is dead, and we've all been captured ... They said they were going to burn me to death, but that fellow Seliph said he was going to let us have our trial ... Ridiculous, who does he think he is ... why not just kill me?"  
Sigurd was taken aback. He had heard the terrible legends of the Dark Order, but had never seen a priest with his own eyes. From this perspective, this priest, it seemed, was no different from those who were weak and powerless.  
"It's the first time I've seen one of the Loptous." He said.  
The priest looked at him, "... What? There is such a lucky fellow in the world? Ha ha ha, you were absent from my trial? Then how about taking a good look at me before I die?"  
His sickening face was distinctly twisted in the moonlight, and Sigurd read a malicious smile from it. But he did not fear the hatred in the priest's eyes and looked calmly back into them.  
"I believe if Seliph is going to execute you, then you must have committed a grave sin. Why is it that lucky not to see the Order?"  
"Ahhh, because we either kill or make them one of us." The priest said. "We can use mind control on others or we can easily use the power of darkness, oddly enough Seliph refuses to use that power as well as Alvis did back then. They are so stupid ... being a monarch and not using their powers is sickeningly naive ... but I know exactly what people say about forbidden evil ... Ha ha ha, those foolish people ..."  
Sigurd thought to himself that he should be disgusted by such things. Had he seen this before he met Alvis, he might have walked away at once and ceased to think. But at this moment he stopped, and a strange compassion came up within him.  
"I can't understand it yet." He said. "But you don't seem to think you're wrong."  
There was a pause in the priest's chattering accusation, and then he laughed cheekily. Gradually the laughter became more piercing, as if crows were hovering in the night sky.  
Sigurd opened his eyes with a jerk and suddenly realised he was still lying in his cot at the military school.

Every night after that, he explored the streets of the future Bahara, talking to the prisoners of the royal capital. There he hoped to gain some new, promising clues about Alvis. Each night new prisoners were executed, there were so much to clear up after the war. Sigurd felt a little fear every time he saw a woman in a cage, and he could only pray that Seliph would not go down the wrong path.  
Finally, he met Alvis - he already knew that day in advance from his conversations with the prisoners. He would be escorted here on the eve of the trial and would wait for the dawn.  
He met a young girl ... in front of the cage, her silver hair unusually conspicuous in the moonlight. The maiden scowled at the cage and said something ... until she turned hastily and struck a glance with Sigurd. She froze, said sorry, and then hurried away, as if she was afraid of being discovered. Sigurd noticed that her eyes were red and swollen and her face was streaked with tears.  
He walked to the cage, where Alvis was huddled in that awful corner. But he looked okay ... He was wearing a silk shirt similar to the one he had last seen, and the red coat belonging to the House of Velthomer was draped over his shoulders. Apart from his feet, which were still bare, Alvis didn't look too dishevelled, and his long, curly red hair was tousled, hiding half of his face.  
Even at a moment like this, he still looked different from the guys. He still looked like he had dignity.  
"I've finally waited for you." Sigurd said. "I blame you for refusing to give me the exact date ... I spent too much time looking for you in the royal capital."  
Alvis looked up, "I know. The ghosts wandering around here are on the verge of becoming legends, and everyone is rumoring that Sigurd's spirit has returned."  
"They're right."  
"Seriously, why do you want to see me so badly? Why did you go to this length for me?"  
"Because ..." Sigurd remembered what had happened to him over the past two months. "Because there are still some things I want to ask you."  
Alvis sighed softly. He had gone numb from the long ordeal and accepted the reality. Sigurd looked different from the last time they had met, and it hadn't been long before he had become much more mature, and the childish look in his eyes had completely disappeared. He hadn't thought that a person could look this changed in such a short period of time.  
"Go ahead and ask, is there anything I can answer for you?" Alvis sounded as if he were a teacher being asked a question by a student.  
"I ... have been thinking these past two months about what this power is all about and what I can do about it. Too many things to figure out, and I don't know who else to turn to better than you."  
"You mean this ability to travel through time and space?"  
"Hmm."  
"Sigurd, it seems your imagination limits your possibilities. If it were me, I'd answer that it's a power."  
"A power?" Sigurd heard a word he could least understand.  
"Yes, it's a privilege only you can have ... You can control the future, which means you can choose the things you want. And after figuring out what kind of future you want, you can avoid those mistakes ... That's the power that fate gives you. But it also means, equally, that you have to put a price tag on the things that are precious to you, one by one, so that when they conflict, you choose one and give up the other. You've done it before, given up your chance to live for your son. Next time, maybe it's the future of this world and another whatever you value."  
"Yes, that's what I've been dreading most this month." Sigurd said. "That's why I ... don't want to change anything anymore."  
"You know what? It doesn't matter to me, you couldn't have chosen me among all those things anyway." Alvis said suddenly. "So it would just feel like gloating to see you in such pain."  
Instead of getting angry, Sigurd smiled. There would be many noble girls in Bahara enamoured with that smile in the years to come.  
"You really have been emperor too much."  
He tried to walk through the solid cages - which he did manage to do, as it turned out - to Alvis's side, sitting side by side with him in the cramped space. He could feel Alvis's breath, which had an unusual heat for this night.  
"Who was the girl who just came to see you?" Sigurd asked him.  
"My daughter, Julia. She's a good child."  
"Oh ... you have a daughter and I have a son. Then they ..."  
"... They're brother and sister."  
"Hahahaha." Sigurd laughed dryly. "So far, I haven't met my wife."  
Alvis rejected the subject with silence.  
"I saw you at the banquet at the palace few days ago. You looked as if you were bored there, though, and didn't invite anyone to dance. I was going to walk up and talk to you, but I didn't feel as if it was a good idea ... if I went back, would we still know each other?"  
"With what I know about myself, going out with me isn't going to make your life more colourful."  
"But I can't just sit here and talk to you. That said, don't you have any friends?"  
"Nope. Things like friends just bore me."  
"..."  
"Let's not bring up all this life talk."  
"Okay, so is there anything you ... want to say to me?"  
Alvis closed his eyes.  
Sigurd waited for a moment, the atmosphere awkwardly silent. He suddenly felt, somewhat tasteless. This conversation was not what he had expected it to be.  
Was it time to go back?  
"Will you forgive me ..." He had never seen such a vulnerable expression on Alvis' face. "I've never asked for forgiveness for what I've done to you before .... But I'm not quite my old self tonight ... tonight ..."  
Sigurd's heart suddenly prickled.  
"I don't even know how to be angry with you for something that didn't happen. But to say I can forgive now would be lying to you, wouldn't it?"  
"So much for saying that."  
Alvis laughed, then lowered his eyes and curled himself into a complete ball. After a moment, Sigurd became aware that his body was shaking off and on.  
He felt so sad.

IV.

"Because of your past deeds, we have ruled in the name of His Majesty the King that you be exiled. You will next go to the forests of Verdane."  
"I have no comment." He said.  
Alvis crossed the crowd in the square, completely oblivious to the noise around him. The sun was so poisonous that it shone a little shakily on his feet.  
Despite the fact that his body was on the verge of failing to support itself, Alvis still reveled in the reality that he would survive. He had the thought that this news should perhaps be told to Sigurd, and wondered when they would meet again?  
People are capricious, even he himself. Alvis, tormented by alternating hope and despair, had completely abandoned the thought of death, the desire to live overriding everything else. And now he had finally got what he wanted. Whether it was his family or his dignity that he was about to lose, he no longer cared. Those things, he could still think about when he had a quiet moment. But for now, he only wished to enjoy this moment of victory.  
Seliph stood before the crowd. He did not rely on the guards to separate those who had come to watch and slowly came to him with his holy sword.  
"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked. Julia was standing beside him. She was about to ask the same question.  
Alvis said, "This ... let that person know."  
Seliph nodded. He knew "the person" was no one else.  
"And ... I wish I could pay my respects to Deirdre before I go ... I'm a little late in seeing her again." He said.  
"... That's no problem. When you get to Verdane, you can also go to the place where she has lived in seclusion, where there is no discrimination against the descendants of Myra."  
Alvis looked up with some surprise, and after a long moment, a bitter smile.  
"Is that why I was asked to go to Verdane ... You are so thoughtful."  
"It was Oifey's opinion, but to be honest, he was very unhappy about it." Seliph laughed bitterly. Oifey had still not been able to forgive Alvis for the tragedy he had created, the deaths of all those knights he had known so well in the flames of the royal capital. For more than a decade he had been lying in wait in Izaak, and had managed to assist Seliph in regaining the throne, and he certainly did not want to spare the murderers. Seliph had gone to great lengths to convince him. But it would be worth it, if even Oifey was okay with it, there would be little resistance among the rest of them.  
"It's okay, I don't ask for his forgiveness. Julia."  
His daughter came forward.  
Alvis gave her a hug.  
"It was worth it to see you well and alive .... You ... should not marry someone who treats you badly, but don't let yourself be alone either. But I'm not destined to see your wedding or your child." He said, remembering the last father-daughter parting. Things still hadn't changed ... what he wanted to say couldn't finish during his lifetime. "Well, don't feel sorry for me, the world has been kind enough to me. All that still belongs to me at present, I leave to you, though it may not be much."  
"You have given me more than enough." She replied.  
He knew he had to harden his heart and part. Alvis did not want to shed tears in public. He released his daughter and nodded to the two guards in charge of escorting him.  
"There is nothing more to say."  
Before embarking on his journey, it suddenly occurred to him that the ghosts of the royal capital would disappear after that day. People would believe that Sigurd was satisfied with such execution. His soul, too, was at rest ...  
Only Alvis knew that he had sat with himself the whole night.

The country, which had been at peace, was steadily recovering from the wounds of war, and Alvis was slowly feeling better during his journey. A year of captivity had left him struggling to walk and he had to ride in a carriage, but by the time he returned to Chalphy he was walking well. It was nearly spring and the land was slowly coming back to life, and he took in the sights he hadn't seen properly before.  
With the lord's permission, he went to the cliffs leading down to the sea just outside of Chalphy, where he listened to the sound of the tide. The moon soon rose and the sound of the waves urged one to drowsiness. He had never felt such a time in his youth in Velthomer, just waiting like this, as if something would happen.  
Just as he was about to fall asleep, a voice with a laugh sounded behind him, "I was told to run into you right here."  
Suddenly awake, he looked back and there was Sigurd, in the moonlight. Alvis was unsure for a moment if what he was seeing was a ghost.  
Sigurd's appearance looked much changed at this point - as if he was in his twenties, his hair had grown a little longer and his face had become slimmer. Alvis realised that while this ... time hadn't passed for himself, it could have been years for Sigurd. The passage of time did not coincide for the two of them.  
"You're back from the royal capital?"  
"Slightly in a nutshell ... I've finished my military school and been involved in some wars, but that real war Seliph was talking about hasn't come yet. I think it's probably close. ..."  
"It looks like you've had quite a bit of experience."  
"I've seen you a few times in the King's capital ... the you before. Still didn't get to talk properly though. The old you really didn't seem to like me much."  
Alvis laughed bitterly, "I told you a long time ago, didn't I, that the old me was nothing but a self-centered jerk. But ..."  
He recalled back to the time when he had met Sigurd in the royal capital and hadn't been as unconcerned as he had thought. Besides his eyes being drawn, he had mixed emotions of shock and jealousy inside. Some people are born sweet and cheerful ...  
"In fact, if I told you everything, would it change anything in the end? If I could have asked your permission, I would have done so."  
"If he believes you, go ahead and say so." Alvis replied. "As you like."  
Sigurd looked at him strangely, "I thought you would object."  
"Suddenly I changed my mind. It's about because I've gotten rid of my past and now I don't have to think about others when I speak and act. I just thought there might be a chance to salvage the mistakes of the past."  
"That's good." Sigurd's eyes sparkled, and at this point he looked as innocent as he ever had. "I'll tell him you said those words."  
"I don't have much faith in myself."  
Suddenly, though, Alvis felt a warmth in his chest. He seemed to have some idea why this guy was liked and trusted by so many people. Every time he saw Sigurd, he always felt like he got back something he had long since given up.  
"Speaking of which, who told you I'd be here?" He asked.  
"Oyfey ... I've actually met him since I got back from the King's capital."  
"Oh ..." Alvis understood, no wonder the guy looked so much relieved. Sigurd's attitude was obviously still having a big impact on him.  
"Then, by the way, I paid my respects to Alec, Noish and Adam and their ... I still can't understand how those three living guys could ..."  
"So you stopped me just fine." Alvis sounded a little firmer. "Maybe you could have kept me from making those mistakes ... if you really couldn't, if you had ... made them then."  
If you had killed me then, a lot of people wouldn't have died. But is that really what I want? Alvis could never say the words "kill me" with any conviction. He sighed inwardly, succumbing to his own weakness. But Sigurd had clearly understood him.  
He said, "I've thought this through over the years. As you and I said before, this power means choosing between different things, it means putting a price on the people and things in your life. To me those three knights are important, of course, but is it justified to kill you because of that? I am a knight and I cannot do such a thing."  
"You're the biggest fool of anyone I know."  
"Is that so ..." Sigurd seemed a little sad.  
Alvis realised that he was losing his toughness step by step with Sigurd. The change suddenly left him a little bewildered.  
"Never mind, it hasn't happened yet." He said sheepishly. "I'll just be able to get some good activity this evening too ... Remember when we first met you said you were going out for a walk and I couldn't stay with you. Would you like to walk along this beach?"  
Sigurd agreed and they both walked slowly down the cliff. On the way down, Alvis' movements were a little sluggish and Sigurd stayed by his side as if he could protect him. This was a good night, he thought, and it would be manageable for years again.

V.

Many years ago he had read a book in which it was said that time was the most just judge of mankind. He thought of the time when he still had room to care for many things outside himself. He was in the royal capital, still young, and still had some room for absurdity. The spendthrift sons of the nobility would also involve him in all sorts of frivolous feasting and drinking parties in order to draw him in. He observed those people, but saw a life he could not understand or enter.  
Alvis remembered that he occasionally strolled through the poor streets of Bajara, where people were full of emaciated faces and prostitutes buzzed around them like flies. He avoided the crowds and walked through the city, stopping in the middle of the square. He saw robbers and thieves about to be executed, corpses hanging from the gallows with their eyes pecked out by crows, he saw rivers passing around the city, he saw death taking away all the misery and joy of life. At that time he still had many questions waiting for someone to answer them.  
Alvis was cynical and contemptuous of the whole world he lived in. His father, his mother and the prince who had raised him up were all people he despised. He wanted to go his own way and refused to let them dictate his life. To achieve this he lived his life desperately, searching for some place to return to that would be reassuring. That year, Sigurd met him at a banquet in the royal capital and came up to him to greet him with a certain expectant look, but he himself only impatiently refused to be accosted. At that time Sigurd did not look any different from the other nobles. Like the others he kept out of the wall, with untouched innocent souls.  
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so stubborn then.  
Realising that he was dwelling on his memories of the past again, Alvis spread out the book in his hand - writing some of the history of the past, and some of the notes he had written down in his youth. Those piercingly poignant points seemed so foreign now. Was that the man he used to be? Desperate to prove himself to the world ...  
Another pain was lurking inside his body. It seemed that one day some organ would refuse to work. The forest of Verdane, damp and unseen, with its year-round mist around the lake, was a perfect place to bury a human. He had also thought that on the day he was about to die, he would go to the lake and sink himself into the water. Everyone in the world would never be able to find him.  
The fire shifted slightly.

The cat, which had been curled up in a lazy ball on Alvis's knee, suddenly woke up and jumped off his lap, staring warily behind him.  
Alvis saw that there was no shadow on the wall where the firelight reflected. He was here, but not there.  
"Why do you appear so suddenly every time?" He said. But he could hardly conceal the joy in his voice.  
"So next time I'll tell you the date first, what do you think of this solution?"  
Sigurd ignored the cat that bared its teeth and came to him. Alvis sat still, his eyes still not leaving the book. But he could feel his body warming up. All the young knight had to do was look at him and the whole climate of the room changed.  
"It took me a long time to travel through the forest." His knight said. "It's a good thing someone else from a nearby village knew the location ... otherwise it would have been really hard to find you. You don't look like you're happy about it."  
Alvis finally closed his book and looked up at him, "Every time I see you, I think it's the last time."  
Sigurd stood there frozen, it didn't seem like it had been that long since that meeting on the beach. His appearance hadn't changed much.  
"You said you'd tell me the date next time? What's the matter, did you produce any interesting plans?"  
"No, it's just that ... for some reason I still want to see you after we parted at the beach. I can't stay in the area for very long. Even if I could see you, it wouldn't be once a day. Still, once every two or three months is doable ... I can control the time precisely. Even if we have to say goodbye, our time can be extended a little longer ..."  
"You ..." Alvis searched his guts and in the end could not find a single word to reply. He nodded woodenly. "Well, you'd have come anyway, I couldn't stop you, could I."  
"Why would you want to stop me? It's obvious that every time you look like you need me. What you say with your mouth and what you think in your heart aren't even the same thing. You don't even know how long I really suffered during that time in the royal capital, and I thought I could let go of what happened about you by seeing you one last time, but I still ..."  
Alvis looked at Sigurd dumbfounded like an idiot. The other man seemed to realise that his emotions were about to get out of hand and was struggling to restrain himself. But the sad gaze in those blue eyes still sent a pang through him. Do I really show it so obviously? he thought. Every goodbye, the resignation inside, the sight that followed him, did all of this show him?  
"I'm sorry. You must have had a hard time walking to get here to meet me." He couldn't say the cold words anymore. People became softer and softer as they got older. "I wanted to see you, too."

Sigurd told him what had happened. After spending the night with Alvis that day in the sea breeze, he had finally followed his heart and made the decision to come running to him deep in the forest. Verdane was not as peaceful now as it would be decades later, full of barbarian bandits and soldiers. Sigurd, however, broke into the country alone and came into this vast forest.  
Alvis pointed out that there was a chance that he would meet Deirdre in this area, but Sigurd said that he did not want to see her in advance. Alvis reassured him for a few moments, suddenly thinking that things might have changed somehow after all - Sigurd had been plainly curious at the beginning. He himself breathed a sigh of relief for reasons he could not say.  
Alvis lay back on the bed at his suggestion, and Sigurd sat on one side, holding his hand. The two men still found it difficult to be substantially touching to each other, but it was reassuring to do so. They talked a lot this time, until Alvis drifted off to sleep, the delicate warmth still lingering in his palm.  
Sigurd promised him that the day of his next return would be appointed by Alvis, so that he could wait in peace. As long as they could see each other, they would continue to do so.

Exile, as it was called, was not the same for the Emperor as it was for the commoners. There was always someone from the nearby villages to look after Alvis' daily life, and he was never without food or clothing. Apart from the somewhat empty nights spent alone, he instead found this time of his life leisurely and comfortable. The cat had come to him on its own, and when Alvis fed it extra food, she refused to leave and stayed in the hut with him. She liked to jump on Alvis's lap when he was reading, giving him an extra weight on his knees.  
Occasionally letters came from the royal capital, informing him of the latest news from the congregation. These letters had obviously been subjected to multiple reviews and would not reveal any semblance of national importance. They would only mention some of the people he was concerned about and mention their recent lives. Every city was changing, except here.  
Alvis wrote to Seliph, hinting vaguely at things. Afterwards, the messenger brought him all sorts of information the king could find. This magic with regard to time did not seem to have been inherited by Sigurd's son. Nor did anyone else in his family have such powers. As to whether the change to history would cause any problems at all, no one would be able to answer that. Perhaps the impact wasn't too great, having somehow he survived, and the world worked smoothly and didn't fall apart.  
He read a lot about it over the next year, though did not reveal it to Sigurd. Alvis could detect vague traces of suspicion in certain documents, and he guessed that perhaps those who had lived through it all would end up keeping the secret. If it had been made public, there would probably have been chaos in the world.  
When they met, he read the letter he was going to send to Bahara to Sigurd as well, asking him to write something to the child. Sigurd held his tongue for a while, but finally just squeezed out, "Then let him take care of his health and get some rest ..."  
Alvis mocked him as he added this to the end of his letterhead, "I've never seen such an irresponsible father."  
"I don't know what method I should use to face him." Sigurd was frank. "In theory I 'should' visit him more often, but I feel particularly awkward every time. Neither one knows what to say, and besides, there doesn't seem to be anything he needs from me."  
"So you don't feel that way when you see me?" Alvis said.  
"No." The answer came quickly. "I just wanted to see you."  
"Do you remember what happened between us?" That was ridiculous. He thought.  
"I know ... but things are just out of my control."  
"We're all the same." Alvis said thoughtfully. Sigurd raised his eyebrows, completely unable to understand what that meant.  
He probably didn't understand that they shared the same weaknesses.

VI.

Alvis handed the volume in his hand to the visiting messenger. He recognised that the man wrapped in a robe was not the one who had come so often before. The people who came to look after him changed frequently, most of them unable to stay in the forest for long.  
Suddenly he wanted to say something: "Speaking of which, how many years have I lived here?"  
The messenger from the royal capital looked at him with some curiosity: "About three years? What's the matter?"  
Alvis closed his eyes, "No, nothing."  
Such a life was tedious day after day. Even if he did his best to keep his memory alive and count the days of Sigurd's visits, time always slipped away. He always forgot faster than he could remember. To change this situation, Alvis made a habit of keeping a diary. The daily routine was dull, so he tried to write as much as he could about the past.  
In his youth, three years would have been enough to turn the world upside down, but during these years, Alvis felt that nothing has changed again, whether it be three years or ten. Perhaps time is just an illusion created by human beings, and perhaps everyone can always go back in time through memory.  
"But why do you suddenly want to write?" The messenger looked at what was in his hands. What he had brought and brought with him was always a variety of texts. Alvis had been in the habit of reading before and hadn't given up the hobby nowadays, with an additional item. He had written down many of the events that had taken place during the years he had ruled the empire and had compiled a manuscript based on the years. Had it been taken to the royal capital, it would have been a precious memoir.  
"Consider it a way to pass some time. Those lessons I've learned might help Seliph too. By the way ...," said Alvis, after a moment's hesitation, when he saw that the other was mounting his horse and about to leave. "These texts are of historical value, so please do take some care on the road."  
"Yes, thank you for your care." The other man simply agreed and galloped off. Alvis leaned against the door and watched the stranger's back ... He could count on fingures the number of people he had managed to get to know over the years.  
It was only an hour from here to the village, and he could visit that small village too if he wished. In fact as long as he didn't leave the confines of Verdane, hardly anyone cared about the former emperor's movements now. However, deprived of a convenient means of transportation, he could not walk that far now with his physical strength. The secluded village was in fact as unchanged as his own for many years, making Alvis not at all inclined to go forward.  
He returned to his room and relaxed a little as he began to sort through his books and notes, and his calendar was marked. A sudden, strange feeling welled up in him ... Sigurd was supposed to be coming this evening. This was the date that had been agreed upon last time ... wait ... was this really the date? Why did it look a bit off ... Was the full moon yesterday or the day before?  
Alvis stared at the calendar, slow to remember what day it was. Yesterday and the day before were equally hard to remember.

Alvis was slumped in his chair, staring blankly into the distance when Sigurd arrived. He looked tired and the cat had somehow not clung to him and had gone straight to hide under the bed. The atmosphere seemed more or less alien, and as he moved closer he saw that there was a heavy shadow under Alvis's eyes.  
"What's the matter? Are you sick?" He inquired cautiously.  
"We could be wrong." Alvis's voice sounded as if he were dead.  
"What was wrong?"  
"I misremembered the time, two days early. I've been sitting here waiting for you the day before, but you didn't come."  
"Ah ... I thought it was something ... shouldn't be a big deal, right?"  
Immediately Sigurd knew he had said the wrong thing. Alvis looked at him incredulously as if he had been punched in the face.  
"No big deal? ..." he said softly. "For you the last time we met was only yesterday, but for me I have to keep remembering the dates afterwards. Other times I just wait for that one date in vain, and I even feel like I'm living for those dates."  
"But I ... can't help it ..."  
"I know, that's why I say we're both wrong. We don't have equal time ..."

Sigurd opened his eyes when he realized they were astringent as hell. He blinked hard before he could finally see the room he was lying in.  
Alvis had finally changed his mind before dawn and re-told him the next date. But this time it was postponed by him straight to six months later ... Not that it needed to be said what that meant. Sigurd calculated the time he had left and felt a sense of uncertainty.  
Alvis would probably put it off again and again until his life expectancy ran out. The gap between their ages would widen. Months for himself would be decades of torment for him. Sigurd had never waited for anyone yet, he always saw waiting and separation as easy. He had forgotten that Alvis had been the only one left in that world, and even the reason for living was given by Sigurd.  
The more he thought about it, the more his chest felt tight, and he rolled over and sat up, walking outside.  
He greeted the owner of the house where he had borrowed a room and led his horse inside the forest. This was the area around the city of Marfa, and Verdane's forest was just to the north-west. He followed the road all the way to where that prophecy was.  
At any other moment he might have been able to hold back from prying into his destiny, but today he could not sit still any longer. Sigurd pushed his horse into the forest, where the sun was blocked by the shading trees. The rustling of his horse's hooves on the grass. He felt like something was spying on him in the forest.  
The old man in Marfa knew where the witch was. He followed the old man's directions and before long found the path, which was for one person only.  
After walking along the path for about an hour, he heard the sound of someone talking.  
Sigurd jumped off his horse and looked through the foliage to the place where the voice was coming from. He saw a young girl standing by the lake, her silver hair cascading down her back. There was a fawn by her side, next to her body, as if it really understood her language.  
Sigurd's heart pounded wildly and involuntarily. He held his breath, waiting for the moment when she would turn around.  
It was not long before the young girl's communication with the deer ended, and she casually gathered her long hair and glanced deeper into the forest ... Sigurd got a good look at her ... He had never seen anyone so beautiful ...  
He waited a moment, and nothing miraculous happened.  
He didn't fall in love with her.  
He seemed to have screwed up again.

It was probably for the best, Sigurd kept thinking on the way back. He'd better not say anything to Alvis about it, though.  
They were just fine as usual, staying together by the fire, reminiscing about the past, Alvis telling him what had happened these days. They took occasional walks in the forest, but the forest at night was not suitable for walking, so the two would not go very far. Sometimes Alvis read to him from the books at hand, the fire reflecting on his face, and it was not so much the content of the books that mattered as the time they spent together, passing the day. The time was so tender and lingering that he could not help but sink deeper and deeper into it.  
When he entered the future again, snow was falling in front of Alvis' window and he was wrapped up in a blanket. For the first time, Sigurd saw him sleeping while he waited for himself, and on closer inspection, there was already some silver at his temples ... Aging was mercilessly robbing him of his energy. Would he one day become as full of grey hair as his father? Sigurd, afraid of waking him up, sat quietly beside him.  
After waiting for an hour, Alvis moved his body slightly and the blanket fell to the floor. Sigurd subconsciously tried to pick it up, his body in the way of the other man ... Alvis' eyes widened as if he had suddenly snapped back to life.  
"Sigurd." He heard his name.  
"I ..." He suddenly didn't know what to say.  
Alvis went and picked up the blanket himself and placed it on his lap, "I'm sorry ... I fell asleep while waiting for you without realizing it. I'd count myself as an old man now."  
"Actually ..."  
"What's the matter, look like you're going to cry."  
"I seem to understand what you meant by that."  
Unexpectedly Alvis asked, "Which phrase do you mean?"  
"You said that we were all wrong ... and maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You must understand, because you've been thinking about it a lot more than I have."  
"Yes, I understand a lot of things. But my dear, I don't think you may understand to that depth, and thinking about that layer just adds steeply to the trouble."  
Sigurd remembered that every time he had gone to Alvis with many questions, he had only ended up making more and more of them for himself. He wondered if Alvis might be teasing him, and it turned out that he was actually being honest every time. Questions overwhelmingly did not lead to answers, they only led to more questions.  
"Also, I have something to tell you. There are finally some results from the royal capital."  
"What results?"  
"About this ability of yours. It seems to be a magical power that causes memory confusion. In other words ... your power has something to do with memory."  
"I can't understand it even more."  
"... In short, if you erase the memory with magic, this power of yours won't exist anymore. And that magic is so simple that even I can learn it. So, if you want to ... today is the last time we meet."  
Alvis said at last, gazing at him in silence. Maybe all these years of seeing each other had drained him of his emotions, he didn't lose control at all when he said this.  
"I don't want to." Sigurd gave a quick answer. As usual, he was not able to understand his choice. "Stop saying that ... and I'll still come to you."  
"Then ... whatever you want." Alvis looked like he didn't want to argue and leaned back.  
"It seems cold today." Sigurd changed the subject. "When did it start snowing?"  
"It only started during the day. If no one had come, my door would probably be blocked with snow."  
It was a rare thing for snow to fall in the warm weather of Verdane. It snowed more in the city of Velthomer, but Alvis hadn't even been out much in the winter as a child, and he always used flame magic to keep the cold away. They talked about snow for a while. Time passed again before they knew it. The somewhat gloomy topic from earlier was left behind them. After all, they still had time.

VII.

As the years passed and the long years of living in seclusion, Alvis's memory began to fail him greatly. There had been a rebellion over the royal capital, supposedly started by the remnants of the previous dynasty, but it was quickly suppressed. But the news caused him a great fear, and occasionally, when he got up in the morning years later, he would feel that his children were in danger and want to save them, then slowly remember that it seemed to have passed. He could no longer tell the difference between what had happened ten years ago and what had happened twenty years ago. Julia had married and brought him the child, and he had held the redhead for a moment, thinking he was holding her as a baby one day, not long after his wedding.  
He no longer resented his fate. The once majestic emperor had also become a soft-spoken, frail old man. There may have been attempts to reach him when the rebellion took place, but seeing Alvis in his present state they abandoned their purpose.  
It was only in the presence of Sigurd that he regained his former acuteness.  
"What do I really look like to you now?"  
"Not much changed from before." Sigurd answered seriously.  
"Do you treat me like a confused old man?"  
"Do you want a back rub?" Sigurd asked him jokingly.  
The cat was old now too, her fur much faded and she had become fat. She was perched on Alvis's knee and meowed lazily at him a few times.  
"My cat laughs at you now, too." Alvis said, not knowing where he had picked up the language of cats. "I really feel like I'm dying now ... every time the seasons change I get a fever, last time it lasted for months, and that's when I always feel like I can't live ..."  
Sigurd was silent. Every time they met, Alvis was getting a little older, and slowly it was becoming that way. Condensing one's life into the memory of a few dozen days ... even though each day was as mundane as the next, he still found it thrilling. The meeting in the royal capital had been like a lifetime ago. He thought about how he and Alvis hadn't spent these years with each other. There were too many things that seemed small in the face of time, including human determination and affection.  
"Wait until the next time we meet ..." he said.  
"There's no next time. This is the last. Please, I don't want you to see me dead at the end."

Sigurd found himself collapsed on the grass by the lake, his whole body aching like he had when he had fallen off his horse as a young man. In another daze, he slowly braced himself to sit up and look out over the tranquil lake. The great lake of Verdane was endless, the waves lapping against its shore like the sound of the tides he was used to hearing in his time in Chalphy.  
He heard his own horse neigh in the distance, and with the sound of hooves another incredible person appeared.  
"Ah ... you are awake, how wonderful." The young girl he had last seen in the forest seemed to have been lured by his horse. She carried her skirt carefully past the slippery lake, the mist of the forest filling in behind her. A mist rose in his eyes too. She looked only fifteen or sixteen, a little younger than he had thought.  
All Sigurd could feel was a splitting headache, and it was a long time before memory and sanity slowly came flooding back to him. He remembered what had happened, remembered what kind of determination he had made.  
"You're Deirdre, aren't you?" He said. "Were you the one who found me?"  
The young woman froze, "How do you know my name? I saw you earlier collapsed by the lake, probably from a fall from your horse, and have been unconscious. I had no way to treat you, so I had to think of going to the village to find someone."  
"... Actually, I am a knight of Grannvale. I came over this time to find you." Sigurd blushed for a moment as he lied, but lying was really nothing compared to the sin he was about to commit. "I want ... to take you to your relatives. That's why I'm here."  
"Relatives?" She was a little disturbed. "But I don't have any relatives."  
"Your father is Prince Kert of Grannvale and your mother is Hichon, Duchess of Velthomer." He spoke these things he was not supposed to know. "You should have the brand of Naga on your body ... so it would be dangerous to remain in this forest, or at least I will take you out."  
"What you say is ridiculous, but again, I don't feel like it's a lie ..." she murmured, touching to her headdress. "My mother, they told me died after giving birth to me, but it's possible my father is still alive."  
"Yes. He could meet his demise at any moment, so at least go and see him before that happens. And ... you have a brother."  
"Huh? I have an older brother?" The young girl looked surprised.  
"... He must be dying to see you. ..."

Deirdre took him back to her hut. Sigurd felt vaguely uncomfortable barging into the room, but after she joked that he was "really a knight," he had to go in.  
The place she lived in looked simple, with nothing but the bare necessities of life, but the maiden had taken the trouble to make it look like a comfortable place. She wove a ring of grass and leaves gathered from the forest, dried them and placed colourful flowers in the middle of the dried grass. On the windowsill were small vases and jars planted with all sorts of wild flowers. Sigurd stepped into the room and heard a hissing sound. He looked down and saw that it was a small snake, which had burrowed along a crack in the floor and disappeared.  
The young girl laughed up behind him, "Did it scare you? There are often snakes in this place, but they don't bite."  
Sigurd explained as best he could about her life and situation, and excluding some parts he didn't yet understand, Deirdre should have enough information by now. She hesitated for a long time, saying that the rule of the clan was that she was not allowed to go out, and that she would bring disaster to others whenever she left ... she had been brought up to do so. Sigurd could only assume a serious, preachy attitude, saying that such things were superstition, that your father and brother would want to see you, and that you were no disaster to them.  
This seemed to have an effect - her attitude softened and she soon agreed to leave the forest with him.  
The maiden bowed her head and looked at him tenderly as Sigurd helped her onto her horse.  
"My presence can bring happiness to others ... you are the first person to say this to me. My mother died because she gave birth to me, and I have often thought that I had no right to be in this world."  
Sigurd, however, said, "Not so, you are not only entitled to live, you are entitled to happiness. But ..."  
"But what?"  
There were many more things he wanted to say, but all of them had to do with that man. He only laughed bitterly and took the subject away.  
Sigurd was still thinking about Alvis as he left Verdane. It's not goodbye forever ... I'll be back, he thought. There's still a chance after the war starts ...

He moved as best he could. He informed everyone he could, but the war broke out after he returned to Chalphy. Byron blamed him for returning too late; any later and the Duke would have been on his way out to Isaach with the Prince. Knowing that the prince had left, Sigurd could only reluctantly place Deirdre in the city of Chalphy. The situation was such that he did not feel comfortable sending her so far away from the royal capital.  
The letter to Alvis sank without a trace, and he did not even hear back. It was common for letters to be lost on the road in times of war. There was nothing he could do about it. Shortly afterwards, he took the rest of his troops from Chalphy to assist Yngvi. Having set out earlier than they should have, they did not wait for back-up and the battle became difficult. After regaining the city of Yngvi, the army informed him that an emissary from the royal capital had arrived from Bahara.  
Sigurd was ready early. Alvis entered the city and was immediately invited to his room by Sigurd, and everyone left, leaving the two of them looking at each other on all sides.  
"I'm curious, what 'personal' words would you have to say to me, the king's emissary?" Alvis said. "I am merely conveying the will of His Majesty the King."  
Alvis had met the young man a few times when he was in the royal capital, and he could sense then that Sigurd was very anxious to make his acquaintance. But according to Alvis's temperament, the more such a person was, the less interested he was, so in the end he never cared about Sigurd. The war of the Yngvi was not on his mind either, it was just a simple war with the barbarians ...  
As he was thinking about it, Sigurd grabbed him by the hand.  
Alvis had never been touched in such a bold way before, and before he could react, his whole body was already being held tightly in Sigurd's arms. His shock quickly turned to surprise. Sigurd buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed like a child. That kind of warm contact also suddenly softened his heart a little.  
"What's wrong?" Alvis thought, was it because our little friend had been too stimulated by going to war for the first time?  
"Alvis, I've finally touched you ..."  
Alvis didn't end up pushing him away.  
He had thought he would, the Duke of Velthomer was a very cold man and no one had ever dared to get close or please him, nor even hold him tight like that. In other words, Alvis had absolutely no experience in dealing with such unexpected situations.  
"What's wrong?" He remembered the trick he used to coax his little brother to do, and had no choice but to give it a try, reluctantly. "Did someone bully you?"  
Sigurd was being bullied by someone else ... how did that sound? Alvis thought as he patted the other man on the back.  
"It's your fault, you always leave me on my own ..."  
"I don't remember doing that, you're talking about someone else." Alvis thought for a moment. "Or else it was someone who looked like me. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that's never happened before."  
Sigurd slowly calmed down, and he released Alvis, examining him carefully. With his long crimson hair cascading over his shoulders, his thin and condescending face, and his delicate eyebrows slightly raised, he looked rejected and unfriendly.  
"I am not ...," said Sigurd bitterly. "Not a mistaken identity."  
"Then which time did I get drunk and start on you at a party?"  
"Were you ever really drunk?"  
Alvis sighed, "No, no."  
"So, do you plan to return to the royal capital?"  
"I'll go back tomorrow."  
"Then I'll keep you even if I have to keep you here."  
"Wait, what's going on?" Alvis was shocked as a whole host of conspiracy theories swept through his mind, such as that the House of the Holy Sword was blatantly detaining the messenger this was a rebellion, that there was no head in the royal capital of Bahara if Sigurd rebelled the consequences would be unthinkable ... etc. He must have been thinking wrong, for Sigurd was gazing at him quietly.  
"There are many things ... going on," he said. "But first, I need you now."

VIII

Alvis stayed behind with a belly full of questions. When he met his own sister, who had arrived from Chalphy, he finally thought he understood what Sigurd was trying to do.  
The illegitimate daughter of his own mother and Prince Kert ... Alvis knew what it meant.  
Sigurd stood quietly by and watched the two of them identify each other. Later, Alvis thanked him and he said gently, "That will be fine, I want you to be happy."  
There was a strange emotion in his voice. Alvis had wondered if this fellow was in love with Deirdre, and then turned his head, and Sigurd's eyes met his exactly ... with warmth and fondness, the kind of look when looking at someone beloved dearly. Even if Alvis was dull, he could sense the reason now, besides he was a perceptive man himself.  
That night, when everyone had gone to bed, Sigurd returned to town after his army tour, only to find Alvis waiting for him in his room.  
"What are you doing here?" He asked in surprise.  
"What exactly has happened?" Alvis asked. "Why do you look at me like a lot of things have happened that I don't know about? I've heard that there is magic that can alter someone's memory, so if that's the case, have I forgotten anything that concerns you? That would explain it."  
"Not really ... forget it, I've asked your permission."  
Like Sigurd had said he would do on the beach, he began to recount his experiences in the future. Several encounters with Alvis, from curiosity, to confusion, to sympathetic care, to inability to let go ... Sigurd finally understood everything when he came to the end.  
"I love you." He said. "All things can only lead to that conclusion."  
Alvis looked at him wordlessly, a look of surprise and complexity written all over his face.  
Sigurd took a step forward. He had no intention of waiting for Alvis to react. Given the opportunity, Alvis would have been the first to avoid the matter, a routine he had long since become accustomed to. After confessing his love, he took Alvis' face and kissed it deeply. It was the first time he had kissed someone ... but he reveled in it.  
Alvis blushed as he separated from him, reacting exactly like a girl who had been molested.  
"Even so, I didn't give you permission to do that." He spoke with the condescending expression that was all too familiar to Sigurd, but his weak resistance said it all.  
"I've wanted to do this for once." Sigurd was frank enough. He'd thought of many other things, like taking Alvis away just like that on horseback to a place where no one could find them ...  
"Do you know about the blood of Loptous inside me? Don't you care at all?"  
"We're not going to have any children between us anyway."  
Sigurd paused as he said this, remembering the object of his true betrayal. Seliph ... What he had promised Seliph, he had broken after all. He was no longer qualified to be a knight, he had given up all that for love. Once again the words Alvis had spoken rang in his ears, "You have to put a price on what is precious to you ..."  
Looking back, the things he had once considered precious were now worthless, and what he had not originally noticed had become priceless. If it were left to others to judge, they would surely find love so maddening. And those who were in it would only take it for granted. Alvis took his life and then destroyed his soul. He destroyed the oath of a knight ...  
What I have done to you is nothing compared to what you have done to me.

Alvis wrote to the king to tell him that he could not return for the time being. He made many excuses for himself, such as having to stay with his sister, or the fact that there was still much to care about in Sigurd. But he knew that the only reason would be one.  
Time and time again, Sigurd fulfilled his need to be loved, to satisfy his empty heart. Growing up, he hadn't lacked care, but was sorely lacking someone his heart was truly close to. Alvis had never had the luxury of meeting such a person, and just when he was completely disillusioned with humanity, Sigurd appeared. It was a feeling that made him unable to leave for a long time.  
The only thing Alvis resented was that future self. Sigurd's comment that he had become a man with no ambition or desire made him feel very unpleasant. It was only right that he should not have become that way, no matter what blows he experienced. If he did have that change ... in himself, then it was up to him to right that wrong.  
He would not make the same mistakes that he had made before, and then, he would be able to change his fate ...  
He voiced this thought afterwards.  
It was nearly midnight, and he could only feel Sigurd's naked body close to his own. The bodies that had just been so closely joined were suddenly separated and he felt unbearably empty.  
Sigurd watched him in the darkness each time, as if that would hold him back.  
He lay there, only to feel his body sink uncontrollably, but relaxed to the point of comfort.  
"We'll go back when we're done fighting." He said matter-of-factly. "The king will commend you. And then the princess will be made heir as well. I'll have a better grip on the country with her. I will choose a good husband for her ... not one who is too ambitious or not worthy of her. Of course, only you belong to me."  
"Perhaps, as you say." His knight kissed him tenderly. "And I would not choose anyone else."

As he crossed the Verdane border, Alvis suddenly had the feeling that this place might actually have been here itself. He secretly decided that he would go and see the place where his mother had died.  
Then came the good news from the army that distracted them. Edaine had been released by Jamka, the third prince of Verdane, and was reunited with them. But apparently everyone in the army agreed that things couldn't end there, that it would only be over if the city of Marfa was taken and Gondorff's life ended. For no reason, simply for the dignity of the mighty Guranbel, these barbarians were destined to be punished and destroyed.  
No one objected when Sigurd made her decision, except for the slightly troubled expression on Deirdre's face. Sensing her mood, Sigurd gently reassured her that he would not allow the soldiers to harm the commoners and that the war would hit mainly the nobles of Verdane. She seemed slightly relieved by her trust in Sigurd.  
But this was not a reason for Alvis to be able to rest easy. He felt that Sigurd's aggressiveness seemed to have another purpose that he feared. He couldn't figure out what it was for the moment, except that there was always the feeling that something else lay ahead of his fate.

IX.

Sigurd believed himself ready to return to the forest again. The forest had been buried by mysterious forces shortly after Deirdre's departure. He led his men through the thorns and eventually reached the place he had sought. The men who had come with him looked at the area suspiciously.  
It was an almost abandoned village, with hardly any people around, and only some smoke from the cooking fires to show that the area was still inhabited. There were no roads within the village either, only twisting paths that ran through the middle of the forest. Sigurd told them that this was the place where Maira had once lived in seclusion, but that few people could find it today, and that the king of Verdane had no control over it. He told the others to go back first and did not explain what he was doing here.  
The others had only to turn back to Alvis. Over the days they had got into the habit of listening to Sigurd's orders in all matters.  
Sigurd came to the same place where he had stayed for a year last year and his horse still recognised the place and led him to the place where he had borrowed lodgings. A couple of hunters welcomed him warmly. This place was far from the world and they had no idea of the war that was taking place in Verdane today.  
Sigurd didn't tell them anything either, except that he had still come to look for someone. They knew that Sigurd had left with a girl and were quite interested in asking about her. He said something about what happened afterwards. Then he asked the two couples, haunted, if they would always live here.  
"Our son has gone to town to become a carpenter's apprentice, and when we are too old to do it anymore, we may move in with him." The man of the house said this.  
"What about your house?"  
"Maybe it will be sold. I'm not going to lie, but a priest came by some time ago and seemed to want to buy the place. They're interested in the forest, and they don't know why."  
That was probably the priestess of the Dark Order who had come in search of Deirdre. Sigurd kept silent, however. Decades later, the house would still exist, having been handed over again from the Dark Order to the king here. If the couple would still be alive by then, they would probably have forgotten how to find their way back to this place. But Alvis still had a place to stay at the end ...  
After nightfall, he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes ... hoping that this would be the last time that this power would be activated.

He saw Alvis carefully touching the cat in his arms. The cat had also grown very old in his presence, her fur now very dull and muscles sagging as she hid in Alvis's arms and shrivelled. Alvis muttered something under his breath, as if he were saying something to it. The man he loved so deeply was a stone's throw away, but decades apart. He called his name softly and approached the lonely, forlorn house as he had done before.  
"Alvis." He said.  
Alvis looked up in confusion, and for a moment it was as if a light had illuminated his face. He couldn't see in front of him anymore, but there was no mistaking the presence of Sigurd in any way.  
"Did I not tell you not to come?"  
"No, I came ... to tell you that the war has begun and that I am with you."  
His outpouring came to a screeching halt when suddenly some terrible thought broke into Sigurd's mind, like a dangerous beast breaking into the yard. He could smell its breath, and the smell of blood, but had yet to catch a glimpse of its form ...  
"Together? You mean with me now?" Alvis didn't seem to be as sharp as before, and his most remarkable mind was deteriorating, pausing for a moment before asking the question.  
"No ... that was before ..."  
What's the point of me saying that when he's still here alone now, Sigurd suddenly thought. Can the Alvis of old be confused with the Alvis of now? Suddenly he realised what a foolish thing he had done ...  
He slowly fell to his knees in front of Alvis.  
"I thought ... I thought this would save you. After that day, I was too impulsive and betrayed my promise to Seliph ... I was no longer qualified to be a knight. I chose you before the whole world and gave up the whole world."  
These days he wanted to pour out these words to Alvis, but finally realized that the Alvis of the past couldn't understand or really care about any of this. Alvis simply didn't care about any of the others when he was younger. Neither man was ultimately able to have a heart to heart. The only one who could really understand him was this one who had gone through all the blows and ended up living here ...  
"And do you think I'd blame you for that?" Alvis said.  
"I only hope that you will be happy because of my choice."  
Alvis didn't say anything, gesturing for him to look around.  
"... But why are you still here?" He asked out, and in a flash of lightning, he understood everything. Fate had bared its fangs to him ... it looked at him who could not escape and grinned madly. "Why? Alvis, why are you still here?"  
"Because, nothing has changed." Alvis said. "I knew that from the beginning."  
"You knew ...," Sigurd froze.  
"I knew decades ago that you loved me, and that Deirdre was my sister, and so what? Everything I had was to be lost eventually. As it is, it is not worth it to invest too much of my heart ... Sigurd, you do not know me well enough."  
Sigurd's whole body went cold: "Why do you ... always make such choices?"  
"I remember that as soon as you lose that kind of memory, you lose the ability to travel through time. It's easy enough to manipulate them and make you think you love Deirdre."  
"You can't - you can't do this to me ... please, don't let that happen ..."  
Alvis whispered, "You are so lucky that my despair was so long ... and yours only a moment. Farewell forever, Sigurd."  
He raised his hand and chanted the spell of magic, and Sigurd could not dodge the powerful force of that dark magic. He felt a strong wave of dizziness. He fell backwards, and everything in his body slowly drew away. He sank downwards, downwards ...

Alvis watched him disappear into the void, his hands gradually dropping weakly. This was the last time in his life he would ever have intense emotions.  
"Forgive me, Sigurd ..." he thought, sinking into a deep coma.  
Alvis was once more resuscitated. He was found alone slumped over in a chair, and his cat was dead. It was dying of old age. He was eventually carried up to lie in bed, spitting blood and talking gibberish in his coma, the vast majority of which seemed to be addressed to a person who did not exist.  
The servants who came to look after him discussed these issues. Alvis had so many people to confess to in this life that it didn't matter who the words were addressed to. How his body suddenly collapsed completely, however, seemed strange.  
After a month, everyone felt that he was beyond cure and they carried Alvis to the attic on a higher floor so that he could spend some of his last hours there. Alvis could no longer eat and even breathing sounded difficult. Death was not a pretty thing, and the night before he died he was already bony and lifeless.  
Alvis struggled through the night as those who were watching him took turns coming in. One of the clerks took a pen and paper and wanted to know what the former emperor would say at the end of his life. He was quiet all night. In the hazy early hours of the morning, he said, "I am going to the lake."  
The voice was so soft that it was barely audible. Several people rushed over to prick up their ears.  
"I'm going to the lake..." he said again, spitting out the words smoothly and clearly. Alvis was suddenly better from his long stupor, the last bit of strength in his body holding him up. He wanted to practise what he had thought earlier, to go to the lake and get away from it all. He wanted to be buried in the beautiful waters of the lake.  
The people looked at each other, and as they hesitated, a calm shadow passed over them.  
It would be a miracle that would live on forever. Sigurd crossed over them all and walked past, and it was then they realised to whom Alvis had addressed that statement. The blue-haired knight nodded calmly, carefully picked up the dying form and walked out. The people present spontaneously moved aside and watched in awe.  
The knight's face was shrouded in the same pale, mysterious light as the legendary hero. He paid no attention to the others, but simply walked straight ahead, followed by his white horse, which neighs sadly and long in front of the house.  
Alvis thought in the last lucid moments of his life: How could it be? He's not coming.  
Oh, yes, he had come long ago.  
Their timing was not equal.  
Alvis was dazed and finally relieved, forgiven for all the mistakes of his life, and the curse that had been wrapped in his blood removed. He glanced at the sky, which had become different at dawn, with gentle clouds hanging low over the forest.  
At last he could thank the world and all the love, all the tolerance, all the redemption and sorrow that Sigurd had given him.  
"I have so much more to say to you, but there is never enough time." There was never enough time for them to say goodbye properly, he thought regretfully.  
Alvis closed his eyes forever after reviewing his life. At the lake, his body slowly grew cold, as if his soul was gradually sinking into the water.

Epilogue.

Death, Darkness ...  
If death meant not feeling anything, was he still alive now?  
Alvis suddenly sobered up a little at the thought. He opened his eyes and realised with dismay that he was in the city of Marfa ... in their temporary quarters after they had taken the city. They were living together in a simple tent, but all was well packed.  
Sigurd still lay beside him, breathing long and evenly.  
Alvis wondered, his thoughts running slowly. Having regained possession of his young body, he suddenly felt his senses become clear and sharp again, and slowly, he figured everything out.  
The reason why Sigurd had chosen to change his fate had actually been spurred on by Alvis' death. Perhaps it was after bringing him to the lake and watching him die, that Sigurd made a choice that didn't seem like a knight's choice - perhaps in Sigurd's eyes. But Alvis had always felt that it was just another way to go, and perhaps just as many tragedies could have been avoided. If it had been him, he would not have recognised that choice as a mistake.  
But again, only someone as serious as Sigurd would have blamed himself and carried it all ... He was just too serious and so shouldn't have thought everything through.  
Alvis took a long breath and breathed in the sweet smelling air of earth once more, and his heart was very relieved.  
He did remember dying once ... that was probably just a long enough dream that everything was an illusion created in his sleep. But those decades, those real and precious memories, now live clearly and forever in his heart. Before this change of life and death, Alvis had never loved, nor had he needed love. Now he had come to understand everything. He lay back down and looked to his side, where Sigurd was still asleep. He had never gazed at a thing so reverently.  
"My dear." He whispered. "It will be me to betray our fate this time. I will not make you choose ... nor will I make you suffer any more."  
He kissed Sigurd and waited for him to wake up.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> I have thought about translating this work for a long time, but I didn't have time to do that.  
> However, now I find that translating software is a better English user than myself. What a sad truth:(


End file.
